


003. Funeral

by fall_into_life



Series: 100 Prompts Table 30-A [3]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, No Attack On Beacon, downer ending, implied major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 16:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15440841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fall_into_life/pseuds/fall_into_life
Summary: It’s the latest funeral in a seemingly-endless stream of them. Their life is dangerous and the next service could be either of theirs, but Weiss won’t let more time slip by without trying to make this work with Yang.





	003. Funeral

When they’re out of sight of the funeral pyre, Weiss molds herself to Yang’s side, wrapping her arm around the other woman’s waist. Yang throws an arm over her shoulder without breaking stride.

The service hadn’t been for anyone they knew personally. Not this time. No, this time it was for one of Taiyang’s old classmates. He’d been one of those Hunters who never settled down, the ones who lived or died by the Hunt. Yang would be that way, if not for Weiss, Blake, and Ruby giving her a port in the storm, a reason to come back to civilization and the people in it.

(It’s mostly Weiss. Ruby is happy so long as Yang is, Blake is nearly one of those Huntresses herself. Weiss insists on Yang coming out to dinner with her at decent restaurants, on Yang staying with her in Schnee Mansion when she’s in Vale, sharing Weiss’ hotel room in other places. Yang has never once complained. They don’t talk about it, but it’s understood: Weiss refuses to lose Yang to the Hunt, and Yang cares for her enough to let herself be kept from it.)

“Too many funerals,” Yang says on the walk back to her father’s house. She’s quiet, as much from exhaustion as emotion. They’d been asleep in a hotel in Vale when Taiyang called, and had come out to Patch immediately. Weiss had gotten just as little sleep as Yang had, but she took better care of herself in general than Yang did.

Weiss doesn’t reply out loud. She pushes up the side of Yang’s shirt, resting her palm on Yang’s bare skin. Yang sighs, a little of the tension leaking out of her. Weiss strokes gentle fingers over Yang’s side, and Yang brushes her lips over Weiss’ hair.

The door to Taiyang’s house creaks open, and they step inside. Yang stops in the living room, with the air of a woman who meant to do something but can’t quite remember what it was. Weiss steps in front of her, tilting Yang’s chin toward her.

Yang looks terrible. The circles under her eyes shine nearly black, and she keeps stopping herself from swaying due to exhaustion. There’s still muscle rippling under her skin, but the curves that used to soften it have nearly disappeared. Weiss wants to steal her away to Vale, force her to rest and eat and take some time to enjoy life. She spends so much time fighting so others can live happy lives, but never wants to stop and take advantage of the fruits of her labor.

“You’re going to lie down,” Weiss tells her, dropping her hand, “and I am going to make you some food.”

A faint smile quirks the corner of Yang’s lips. “You, cook?” She doesn’t try to argue about lying down, which is good because it wasn’t a request. It was an order.

“I am perfectly capable of making a sandwich without burning the kitchen down,” Weiss says, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll believe it when I eat it,” Yang says. She leans down to brush her lips over Weiss’.

They’re rarely affectionate this way, but Weiss thinks Yang would be if Weiss were more welcoming of it. So when Yang moves to straighten up, Weiss curls fingers into the front of her shirt, keeping her in place. Yang makes a soft surprised sound, but doesn’t fight Weiss’ grip.

Weiss spent the entire service staring at the pyre, remembering how many funerals they’ve already been to since graduating Beacon. They’re barely twenty-three, but between their classmates at Beacon, Ruby’s uncanny ability to befriend everyone she meets, and Blake’s Menagerie connections, Weiss has lost count of how many times she’s seen a body either burned or buried. Or worse, how many times there’s been no body to care for. The next time could be Yang. She’s played her cards close to the vest for too long already; if she loses Yang without giving her so much as an idea of how much she means to Weiss, it will destroy her.

When they break, Yang’s eyes are soft. Weiss can’t remember the last time she saw that sort of adoration in Yang. Back at Beacon, probably.

“Go lie down,” Weiss says, letting go of Yang’s shirt. “I’ll bring you a plate.”

Despite Yang’s playful jibe, it doesn’t take Weiss long to put together a simple meal for the two of them. She doesn’t know this kitchen well - she’s only been here a handful of times, and generally Yang and Taiyang exile everyone else from their space while they cook - but there are only so many places to keep the ingredients for sandwiches, and the milk and potato chips are easy enough to find.

Yang has obediently lain down on her bed, eyes opening when Weiss sits down next to her. She sits up, moving backward to prop herself up against the headboard. Weiss sets the plate bearing their food down on Yang’s bedside table, leaning in for another kiss.

The other woman stills against her, and for a moment Weiss thinks she’s overdone it. Then Yang’s hand comes to rest on the back of her neck, and Weiss relaxes. The touch is hesitant, but the way Yang’s mouth opens under hers is more sure.

They kiss, slow and open-mouthed and, yes, a little shy. Weiss isn’t used to kissing Yang outside of sex, and even then only rarely, but she doesn’t mind this. She enjoys it, if she’s being honest with herself.

(And she has to be honest with herself, now. Yang is an amazing fighter, but she’s also been adrift since graduation, taking missions wherever she ends up, only keeping in intermittent contact. More often than not she wanders without any backup, and without anyone knowing more than her very general location. All it takes is one Grimm sneaking up on her in the dead of night, and she’ll be the next funeral without a body to burn. Weiss doesn’t know that Yang will be willing to change her habits, but it’s either ask her to try, or let her go. Letting her go has never been an option.)

“You’re being really sweet today,” Yang whispers, her eyes searching Weiss’. “You know I didn’t know that guy, right? He was just one of Dad’s old friends.”

“I know,” Weiss says, reaching for the plate, “now eat.”

When they’ve finished the food, Weiss sets the plate aside and slides into the bed next to Yang. They’re both still in their mourning clothes - simple white cloth, the tradition unfamiliar to Weiss but honored out of respect for the deceased - but Weiss lets that go as a problem for the morning. She tugs Yang down to lie on her side facing away from Weiss, and wraps herself around the larger woman as best she can. They don’t normally sleep this close, but Weiss wants the reassurance, and Yang doesn’t protest.

Weiss falls asleep to the sound of Yang’s deep breathing, and dreams of nothing at all.

[*]

The next day finds Weiss up with the dawn. She’s not quite rested enough - or perhaps too much so - but her mind is restless, pulling her out of bed and onto the porch. She stares out into the sunrise, thoughts chasing one another with no real resolution in sight.

It isn’t long before Yang pads out to sit next to her. She hands Weiss a cup of coffee, and Weiss very nearly skips her prepared speech and asks Yang to marry her right then and there. The coffee is precisely the shade that Weiss would have made for herself, and when she takes a sip, it has sugar exactly the way she likes it. She takes her second sip with a moan of pleasure, and watches Yang blush out of the corner of her eye.

Yang lets her get most of the way through the cup before she shifts closer. Someone else might think nothing of it, but Weiss knows it’s an offer. She sets her cup to the side, and draws her legs up to her chest, curling into Yang’s shoulder. Yang exhales shakily.

In the end, Weiss’ prepared speech fails her anyway. It would help if used on Weiss herself, would illuminate and explain the situation, but Yang is not her. Yang operates on instinct, on snap decisions and intuition. She’s honest to a fault, open in ways that make Weiss shy away to think on. If Weiss wants Yang to meet her halfway, there has to be motion on Weiss’ end as well.

“I love you,” Weiss says simply. “And I want you in my life for the foreseeable future.”

Yang jerks. Weiss can feel her body move as her head whips to the side, but she doesn’t look up.

“Weiss… are you proposing?” Yang’s voice is choked with so many emotions that Weiss doesn’t know where to start with untangling them.

Weiss shakes her head. “No. I worry every time we meet that it will be the last time I’ll see you. Our life is dangerous, Yang, but it doesn’t need to be nearly as much so as you make it.” She looks up, steely blue meeting violet. “I won’t be a Hunter’s wife, always waiting for that letter. I want to.. to formalize what we have, but more than that, I want you to take care with your own life.”

“Woah, Weiss,” Yang scrubs a hand over her face. “Back up a little. I thought we were just– I mean we’ve been… y'know… since Beacon, but I didn’t think you…” Yang winces, but finishes, “…cared.”

Weiss sits up, spearing Yang with a harsh look. “Yang Xiao Long, I know you don’t mean that.”

Yang shakes her head. “I know you care, I just didn’t know that this… mattered to you.” Yang’s eyes skitter away from hers. “I mean… this. Us. Whatever we are.”

Softening, Weiss gently turns Yang’s head so she’s meeting Weiss’ eyes again. “It does. I apologize for making you think it didn’t.”

Yang huffs out a laugh. “First you propose, then you apologize? Am I dreaming?”

Weiss searches her eyes for a moment, then leans in. “Does this feel like a dream?”

Their lips meet, and Yang pulls Weiss into her lap. Weiss only meant to kiss her once, chastely, but she finds herself trying to pour her emotions into it, trying to make Yang understand that she values her. That this matters. Yang kisses her back just as intensely, her hands coming up to frame Weiss’ face.

“I thought…” Yang’s eyes stay closed, and Weiss can see tears shimmering in the corner of them. “I thought I was just gonna be in love with you.”

Weiss feels something in her break. “Yang…” She strokes her thumb over Yang’s jaw. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I figured you knew.” Yang’s eyes open, and seeing pain there makes everything a hundred times worse. “I’m not…” She laughs without a hint of humor. “I’m not subtle, Weiss. I’ve had like a million people ask me if you’re good to me.”

“And I haven’t been,” Weiss’ heart drops. “I didn’t… I didn’t know. I promise you, Yang, I didn’t know.”

Yang nods, slow. “I believe you.”

Weiss studies her face, swallowing hard. “I understand if you don’t wish to… pursue this with me. Ignorance is no excuse; I should have been better to you.”

Yang’s hand slides in under her shirt, stroking her skin. She nods, more acknowledgement than agreement. “I… need to think. That okay?”

When Weiss moves to climb off of her, Yang’s arms tighten around her. “Can we stay like this for a bit?”

“Of course,” Weiss says, settling.

They stay in place until the sky is finished painting reds and golds over the porch, warm on Weiss’ back. Yang’s scroll blares through the open window, and she kisses Weiss apologetically, going inside to answer it.

It’s a callback about a mission Yang had been chasing down, and she leaves that night. Weiss watches her go with fearful eyes.

She never gets her answer.


End file.
